Seekers of Hamunaptra
by Vitani
Summary: Written for a website's challenge. There is an ancient legend of a place known as the City of the Dead. They came to uncover its secrets. They sought to unlock its treasures. But what they did was unleash a force unlike any the world has ever known ...
1. Prepare

**Title:** Seekers of Hamunaptra   
**Rating:** PG-13/12   
**Disclaimer:** _The Mummy_ is © to Universal Pictures and all its original owners. No infringement intended.  
**Overview:** "There is an ancient legend of a place known as the City of the Dead. They came to uncover its secrets. They sought to unlock its treasures. But what they did was unleash a force unlike any the world has ever known..._Prepare...Beware...Behold_..."

  


**Prepare**

  


_What_ are _they doing?_

Daniels stood with some disdain under the smoldering desert sun, squinting against the heavy brightness to watch them work. The girl, Evelyn What's-Her-Name, seemed to be positioning some sort of polished sheet metal towards the low sun. Why? He could only guess. O'Connell was securing rope about the wide base of what was once a pillar, for fairly obvious reasons; it was a whole new race now, to see who would make it inside first. The other two men stood as if they didn't know what to do, looking largely like the blundering fools they appeared to be.

Daniels grinned at the awkwardness in which O'Connell seemed to be running things for the opposing side. _He's making this too damn easy,_ he thought with a wicked sort of glee.

O'Connell had made a hasty make-shift camp far from the center of what was left of Hamunaptra, near a far side of the silent volcano. Like novices the handful of them had set to work, seemingly tossing what vagabond supplies they had in a heap to quickly make their way into the ruins. And even quicker, the American camp was ready.

All around him the native hands were in a flurry of activity. Their camp as swiftly assembled with tents up, lean-to sheds constructed and a fire already lit. Their site was well chosen, sitting on level sand just inside the City entrance. It seemed Lady Luck was on both sides this trip.

Hearing their Egyptologist shouting, almost in a refined manner, Daniels turned to regard the diggers who were working in a constructive line to clear the temple door, handing down stone by stone until it was clear. He walked slowly over, tilting his head to see the progress they were making. Satisfied that they would beat O'Connell--this time--Daniels shielded his eyes and glanced up at Henderson and Dr. Chamberlain, who were standing on the archway above the covered door. Both were turned, watching O'Connell's lot. He grimaced.

_What _are_ they doing anyway?_

While he waited, anticipation and excitement growing steadily, Daniels swaggered over to where their guide sat on a pack, smoking a hookah and swatting irritably at flies. Beni was a shifty character, he knew, but he was also quite submissive and eccentric, someone who did not bear much watching. As he approached him, Daniels caught the snip of a man greedily eyeing the door. When Beni noticed the other's presence, he looked away. For a moment, it seemed there was something else in that look. He couldn't tell, but to Daniels, it resembled hesitation. And fear.

One of the natives passed by, walking two mares to cool them down. Daniels allowed his attention to wander to those horses. Their sweaty chests and flaring nostrils were a harsh reminder of his lost bet. Absent-mindedly, Daniels stuck his hand in his jacket pocket, his fingers brushing his wallet that was over 150 dollars short. He chewed the inside of his lip in annoyance.

His greatest consolation was knowing that all their supplies were already bought, and that there was _a lot_ more than 500 dollars waiting for them under those ruins. A smile soon tugged at the corners of his mouth at the thought. The hardest part was finding the "mythical" City of the Dead, and that was over. Not too long, and the three of them would soon be very wealthy men. He knew it.

His eyes began to drift aimlessly over the ruins. Looking out across the dunes, Daniels noted the herds of camels straying about, some even with young. The strangest thing about the camels, however, was not that they were there, but that they wore dusty packs and worn saddles. Obviously they weren't wild.

"Where'd all these camels come from?" he asked, as if wondering aloud.

Beni didn't even bother to look. "They belong to the dead. They will wait years for their masters to return before leaving."

Daniels gazed down on him with a repulsed, almost dangerous look. He wasn't certain what exactly that meant for them, but Beni's tone implied something tragic. He didn't care about the little weasel's past with this Hamunaptra, but he sure as hell didn't want him ruining their chances.

Suddenly he heard Henderson's voice calling for Burns and himself. "They got through!" he called, motioning with his hat to the door beneath him where diggers were brushing sand off the full length of the entry. He flashed a boyish smile.

Daniels clapped his hands together as if to exclaim, "Finally!" and hurried over. Burns emerged from a tent, shouldering a pack and bringing with him a lantern. He seemed perplexed.

"Somethin' wrong?" Daniels asked.

Burns shrugged, replying, "I can't find my tool kit."

Daniels dismissed the fact with a wave of his hand, saying, "It'll turn up somewhere." His eyes glittered. "And if it doesn't, we'll just buy you fifty more!"

Together they pushed their way roughly through the diggers to the door. Henderson merely jumped off the arch as Chamberlain chose a more cautious means of getting down.

Daniels put his hands on the door, Burns following his example, and together they gave the solid mass a good push. Nothing. Daniels shook his head slightly.

"Must be jammed," he said, inspecting the hinges.

Dr. Chamberlain squeezed between them to try and decipher the small, nonsense-looking pictures on the door; he eagerly swatted Daniels hand off a cartouche. Daniels glared at him.

Tossing his hat to a digger and running a hand through his hair, Henderson said smoothly, "You just gotta put your back into it, boys. Here."

Henderson all but shoved the Egyptologist out of his way and braced the left side of his tall frame against the door. Burns helped him, but Daniels stepped back, one black brow arched in a wry manner. He was just as keen on getting in as anyone, but he still hated to be proved wrong.

His friends tried forcing it with all their might, but still it would not budge.

"Don't try to help us or anything, Daniels," Henderson growled through his teeth.

"I told you the thing's sealed shut," he replied matter-of-factly. "I'm afraid three of us trying would look stupid." He knew Henderson rolled his eyes. To Chamberlain he ordered, "Tell them to get crowbars."

Henderson and Burns gave up the fight, thinking it a good idea, even as the Egyptologist began giving the commands.

With no one so much as near the entrance, there came a sudden dull groan, and it seemed the sand under their boots shifted, sliding down towards the door. Without warning, the door gave, like magic, as if they were suddenly welcome inside. The diggers backed away, afraid. It fell open, slowly, creaking with a resounding, heaving moan, mouth widening into sheer darkness. The four stood gaping at the door, surprised and baffled. Daniels drew his gun, half expecting someone to be on the other side.

The sun from outside cast some light into the cave-like entrance, but hardly enough to distinguish a thing by. Nothing was there to greet them but complete blackness. The Americans lingered in the doorway. Chamberlain said something in Arabic, and two diggers quickly fetched torches; Burns switched on his lantern.

"Where do we go now?" he inquired.

Daniels flicked his shoulders in a shrug as he looked around the darkness, mimicking its silence. There was a stale, dry odor hanging in the heavy air, and it felt like it moved all over the walls, slithering like a thing alive, brushing against their skin. Daniels suppressed a shiver at the odd sensation as he strained to peer into the never-ending night inside.

A breeze from somewhere in the depths of the ancient City stirred, moving up from the very belly of the earth. It seemed that something else quivered within that slight wisp of air, some dark remnant of an age long since dead and buried. It was a strange stillness that dwelled within walls such as these.

Daniels was not a man to ponder over such philosophical thoughts. Whatever was once here was gone, and his thought now was on something else long left buried and untouched. Seti's fortunes...

"Mr. Gabor?" Burns' voice echoed off the inner walls, sending the dusty air shuddering. Beni plodded through the diggers, looking only slightly less shaken then them. He gave Burns a candid look.

"You were here before, right?" Burns asked. "You can show us the way?"

"I found nothing on my stay at Hamunaptra, Mr. Burns," he replied. "I can show you nothing."

Daniels turned to him, and Henderson draped his arm over the spindly little man's shoulders, as if they were buddies. But his grip suggested something more aggressive, and Daniels' low voice reflected a hostile tact of a man expecting to be obeyed.

"You're the guide, in this only for the money." Daniels cocked his head in a manner to show he meant every word. And he still held his gun. "So haul your skinny little ass in there, give us our money's worth, and _show us._"

Beni needed no more than that. He ducked out of Henderson's arm and slipped by Daniels into the chamber, flinching from the revolver. "Right away, _sahib_!"

Daniels grinned wickedly at his friends, saying, "It's just like herding cattle. Ya gotta let 'em know you mean business." He brandished his weapon.

"Best way," Henderson agreed with a smile as Burns followed Beni inside with his light. Daniels and Henderson wasted no more time, following closely on their heels. It was walking from intense daylight into pure night.

It was very slow going at first as their eyes adjusted to the faint, flickering light. Daniels walked carefully behind Burns, keeping a hand out, fingertips just barely touching the wall to lead him on until he could see better. He could hear Henderson breathing behind him, and the cracking flames of the diggers' torches beyond that. Ahead of him, Burns kept touching his glasses, as if they could help his night vision more, and Beni shuffled ever onward, obviously familiar with the terrain.

The corridor led into a main chamber, a circular room lit by an eerie darklight. The torches made dim shadows dance across the walls, like shapes caught in a mad wind. The Egyptologist found a wall sconce; taking a torch from the nearest digger, he lit it. Soon they could all see well enough with only Burns' lantern.

The chamber was quite rough looking, no polished columns or engraved artwork, nothing to suggest untold riches laying in wait. Each wall, each shape, looked like everything else, no twist or turn distinguishable. Daniels grew anxious, fearing they would wind up heading in circles. They needed to know what to look for. After all, no one ever simply stumbled into a big room to find mounds of gold just waiting for them.

"Do you know where we should be headin', Doc?" Henderson asked, the stillness forcing him to whisper.

Daniels started to turn, wishing to hear Chamberlain's response, when suddenly a shaky noise echoed to them. A digger gasped. It sounded almost like--

Whispers.

Daniels knuckles went white as he gripped his gun tighter. He sidled up besides Burns, Henderson at his back. Beni scooted behind them nervously, pointing down another corridor. There. From that direction came the source of the mysterious voices. Nodding, Daniels moved down the dark hall first. Henderson drew his two trusty revolvers, Burns and Beni pulling theirs out hesitantly.

Making no sound whatsoever in the soft sand, Daniels stepped slowly through the precarious darkness of the corridor, swallowing past a lump suddenly in his throat. He had no idea what to expect beyond the corridor, nor could he guess at what awaited them within the other chamber. His mind began racing with possible options. Then--

It swept over them, intense and loud. And very human. A sound unlike any they had ever heard: a bitter, evil groan, like a tortured soul calling out dangerously. It pulsed through the silence, slicing through them like a dagger seeking blood. Daniels stepped into the chamber, breathless, the others coming to either side of him. They could see the fire of another torch . A cracked, ancient block of stone--part of a statue--blocked their line of sight.

They moved slowly, step by step, the whispers starting again all around them, mocking.

Suddenly, something jumped out from behind the statue, and they lunged, guns aimed and cocked, ready. But they recoiled at the sight of four sweaty, nervous and _familiar_ faces.

Daniels let his shoulders slump with relief as he recognized O'Connell, Jonathan, Evelyn and their chubby companion. He eased out a shaky breath, blinking, trying to regain his adrenalin-scattered wits. He didn't even notice that his arm fell slightly, muzzle of his gun lowered. Everyone finally remembered to breathe.

Henderson intelligently expressed all their thoughts aloud, fingers twitching on both triggers. "You scared the bejeezus outta us, O'Connell."

The mercenary gave them a crooked grin, masking his own nerves quickly. "Likewise."

The Americans lowered their guns completely only when the other side did. The Egyptologist came up behind them, eyeing the statue with intense interest, the diggers close by.

Just then, Burns noticed what the woman clutched in one arm. "Hey," he said sharply, "that's my tool kit!"

She held it tighter, pulling it away from him defensively.

Daniels watched, eyes slitting in a glare, as O'Connell said deftly, "No, I don't think so."

And when O'Connell made the slightest move, Daniels quickly reacted, bringing his gun back up and aiming like the rest of them. Though anger welled up at the sight of O'Connell's one gun in his friend's face, Daniels held fast, wanting badly to pull the trigger, but knowing full well it would be a blood bath--including his own--if someone snapped.

_"O-kay,"_ Burns stammered, his voice notably higher. He leaned away from the gun and stepped back. "Perhaps I was mistaken."

An expression of satisfaction passed over O'Connell's face, and he lowered his guns. Daniels set the hammer of his own weapon back. There was a chorus of definite _clicks_ as everyone did the same.

Regaining her composure, Evelyn said tactfully, "Well, have a nice day, gentlemen. We have a lot of work to be getting along with."

Daniels turned his evil look on her, not believing his ears. The nerve of her! Chamberlain was just as unmoved, not wanting to lose the ground they'd come upon.

Leaning over Daniels' shoulder, he retorted, "Push off! This is our dig site."

Angrily she responded, "We got here first!"

All guns rose again; Daniels arm came up in one straight movement. In the sudden silence that followed, Daniels sneered, icy eyes holding O'Connell's down the length of his revolver, neither tough guy willing to back down.

"This here's our statue, friend," Daniels remarked coldly, unblinking.

O'Connell said, "I don't see your name written on it...pal." His tone was just as collected and calm.

Suddenly Beni spoke up, addressing his old sparring partner as if they were the only two present. "Yes, well, since there's only four of you and fifteen of me, your odds are not so great, O'Connell." Henderson grinned, but Daniels watched O'Connell carefully.

Cocking his revolver, the broad mercenary took one aim off Daniels and pointed the muzzle directly at Beni, growling dangerously, "I've had worse."

"Yeah, me too."

Attention was diverted for a moment to Jonathan, who met O'Connell's peevish look with brows raised, giving him a little nod to imply that it was actually true.

Suddenly Evelyn interjected. "Oh, look, for goodness' sake."

She cautiously eased herself to the front, laying a finger on Daniels' gun. He humored her by easing the hammer back and lowering it, but he watched her suspiciously, wondering what she was playing at. Burns and Beni looked rather thankful to put the stand-off to an end, but Henderson, on the other hand, appeared unsure.

"Let's be nice, children," she offered. "If we're going to play together we must learn to share."

_Here it comes,_ Daniels' cynical mind expected. He exchanged a look with Henderson, who finally eased off. What she said next surprised them. Evelyn laid a hand on O'Connell's.

She said to him in a strange manner, "There are other places to dig."

O'Connell's eyes shifted from her to the Americans, but finally he backed down, giving them a forced smile and feigning a polite bob of the head. Daniels was just pleased to have won the site. It did bother him slightly that she had given up so easily after putting on such a show of force to keep the statue. But it was soon forgotten as he watched them leave the way they'd come, empty-handed.

He called to O'Connell, grinning, "Happy hunting."

He returned his smarmy grin with one of his own; Henderson laughed. When they had completely disappeared from sight and the Americans were free to set to work, Daniels waved the diggers into the chamber. Dr. Chamberlain was already combing over the base of the statue.

"There's gotta be somethin' here," Daniels asked the doctor hopefully. "I didn't almost get my head shot off for a pair of stone legs, right?"

Daniels studied the man for a moment, then shrugged. "Well that's good enough for me. Let's get to work."

Daniels removed his jacket and set it aside. He ran a hand over the side of the base, feeling every jut and engraving carefully. Burns held his lantern for Chamberlain to read by while Henderson inspected the legs of the statue, fingering each crack as if they were some secret doorknob. When the bandanna around his neck caught, he threw it off in annoyance. He took his vest off as well, slinging it over Daniels' coat.

He sighed. "Any ideas what we're looking for?" he asked of no one in particular.

Daniels gave a small grin, thinking to himself that his friend seemed like a pouting child. He tried stretching his arm to reach the back of the base, craning against the statue and the wall. Pulling back, he brushed the caked dust from his sleeve, only to undo his cuffs and roll them up.

As he worked, he inquired with brow arched at the other, "Not giving up already, are you, Henderson?"

"I'll tough it out longer than you, Daniels," he replied with good humor to his friend. "I always do. We just have no clue how these ancient Egyptian places work. So how will we find anything?"

"That's why you have me, Mr. Henderson," stated Dr. Chamberlain smugly. Daniels tilted his head to look at him. "I believe I've found what you're looking for."

He traced a finger over a square in the base, dirt falling out from a compartment crevice; something lay beyond that particular slab of stone. Henderson smiled broadly.

"Well, well, well," he mused happily. "What've we got here?"

As Chamberlain set back to reading the hieroglyphics, Henderson snatched a metal pike from a nearby digger. Daniels moved to help, excited.

"Let's get us some treasure!" Henderson rammed the metal tip into the top seam.

The Egyptologist reacted swiftly, grabbing the bar before it was wedged any deeper. _"Careful!"_

Henderson had to visibly restrain himself, his smile fading as he looked into the doctor's viciously serious eyes. Daniels, however, grimaced at the man's back. Chamberlain seemed a little too pushy for a hired hand.

"Seti was no fool," the Egyptologist said. "I think perhaps we should let the diggers open it. Hmm?"

Henderson peered into the seam, wondering what could possibly be inside, a bewildered expression on his face. He looked at the diggers noncommittally.

"Uh, I think we should listen to the good doctor, Henderson," Burns interjected cautiously.

Daniels eyed the natives, watching as they backed away from the Americans who were staring at them, shaking their heads nervously and muttering. He rubbed his hands free of sand, sniffing once at the dust he created, and gave the group a dark look. He didn't much like how these hired hands were acting, either.

Henderson shrugged. "Yeah, sure," he said, jerking out the bar. He looked as if he didn't understand the big fuss. "Let them open it."

Chamberlain waved a hand at them, saying something in the foreign tongue. None of the diggers volunteered; rather, they moved further back. Beni, standing to the rear, ambled out of their path, towards a glaring Daniels.

Suddenly frustrated with the uncooperative behavior, Daniels drew his gun and pointed it directly into the group of men, not caring who it was aimed on. He gazed at them under lowered brows, eyes gone dark and threatening. Three men stepped forward with crowbars. _Smart boys._

In the clamor the diggers were creating, Daniels of a sudden felt an odd tingle crawl up his spine. Something was not right. The others felt it, too; they started backing away from the workers. Yet he couldn't seem to take his gaze off the progress. His heart throbbed in his chest as he watched.

Chamberlain began commanding them in the gibberish Daniels had grown accustom to hearing. They pried and dug the bars deeper into the compartment. Suddenly success, the seal broke. But with no warning, a cloudy, grainy vapor shot out, spitting at them with a sinister _HHhhiissst!!_

Daniels jumped, hand snatching instinctively at the person at his side, who happened to be a very startled Beni, in alarm. Wailing in agony, arms flailing, the three diggers blindly staggered around, their skin virtually _melting_ down to muscle and tissue, burning clear off their bones.

Disgusted, afraid, Daniels screamed and flung backwards, catching Burns' arm, who was in his way. Burns lost his grip on the lantern, and it clattered loudly on the ground, rattling their strung nerves even more.

They watched the gruesome scene play out, thunderstruck at the horrific sight, until the three men fell to the sand. The echoing screams faded, but the ghastly sounds rang in Daniels' ears long after. They died a truly excruciating death.

Daniels stood against Burns for some time, unable to catch his breath. They were all badly shaken and wide-eyed, but luckily the Americans were left unharmed. Working the tension from his jaw, Daniels finally stepped forward, drawing in a quivering, long breath. He was sorry he did. The air was heavily dark, leaving a salty taste that burned in the back of his throat. He gagged.

"What in God's name is that?" he asked, drawing an arm across his mouth and nose. Henderson coughed.

The Egyptologist drew himself off the wall he had backed into, wheezing a bit as he spoke. "Acid. It was Seti's safe guard against burglars." Wisely, he left off an 'I told you so'.

"Worked well," Burns stammered. He looked like he would be sick.

For a moment, Daniels stared down on what was left of the bodies, re-living that hideous sight in his mind. The wet, charred and tangy smell was overwhelming. Shaking free of it, he said stridently, "Bury them outside. Away from camp."

He looked up to the secret compartment. They had managed to open it at least, the lid fallen on the ground. The entire thing still glistened with the deadly moisture. He decided it best to err on the side of caution. For now.

"We'll have to continue work tomorrow." Terror quelled his disappointment.

Henderson swallowed hard. "Good idea."

The surviving diggers covered their comrades bodies and carried them out, shaking. Chamberlain didn't dally, soon following them, looking pale and feeble himself. Before he left, he gave the Americans a dismal, frank look. They paid him no mind.

"Welcome to the cursed City, good sirs," Beni said heavily, staring at the spot where the diggers fell.

The sarcasm irked Daniels, who turned icily to the little man. "Why don't you just keep your mouth--"

**_BOOM!!!_**

The ground beneath their feet suddenly heaved, the walls all around vibrating noisily. Dirt fell from the ceiling, cascading down the legs of the statue of Anubis. The four men rebounded swiftly, guns drawn and aimed at the earth under them. Just as quickly, the chamber grew silent. Daring not even to breathe, everyone exchanged looks.

Henderson whispered gravely, "That can't be good."

"I think I've had enough of this place for one day," Burns murmured, the whites of his eyes showing all around like a horse ready to bolt.

"Yeah," Henderson said. "Let's not tempt fate anymore today."

Slowly, Burns made for the door, Beni slipping past him to be the first out. It took a moment, but Daniels finally blinked, coming back to his senses. Henderson looked at him, clapping him once on the back; Daniels jerked, arching a brow at his friend.

"You comin'?" Henderson asked him.

He appeared as if he hadn't heard a word, but Daniels nodded. "Sure."

Before leaving, Daniels gazed back into the room, saying to Henderson, "If that's the extent of the Curse of Hamunaptra, I think we're safe enough."

  
  



	2. Beware

  


**Beware**

  
Daniels stood quietly in the darkness, his eyes fixated on the three mounds of dirt on the outskirts of their camp, the fires behind him casting a dismal glow over the sands. Idly he began tapping his thumb against the beat-up tin cup he held in one hand, for the moment the bitter coffee it contained forgotten. 

Left alone, his mind began to wander towards much more foreboding thoughts. Beneath his feet there lay an entire city lost to the world, and he himself hadn't been completely sure of its existence. Until now. Now he was glad he had made the long journey. Their excavation sight was carefully watched by two anxious and tired diggers, left there to make certain no one from the other party laid a hand on their statue. Whatever treasures it contained would soon be theirs, and on its way back to the States, and he'd be damned if that goody-two-shoes and her boyfriend stole their limelight. 

Burns was right. They had the chance to make history. The opportunity was all around them. He smiled to himself, though, at another memory. And get rich doing it.

With curious timing, his eyes focused on the lonely graves. This time, a different sort of thought crossed his mind. They would find wealth beyond his wildest dreams...but at what cost? And how far would he be willing to take it? 

Daniels sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and grimacing at how sweaty and uncomfortable he felt. Nights in the desert were unquestionably cooler, but still more scorching than any summer back home. And he wasn't use to it at all. His hotel room back in Cairo had a fan, cross-ventilation he missed very much. The heat, combined with the day's events still fresh in his head, was enough to keep him awake and restless. 

Tired of the sight before him, he turned on his heels, sipping his coffee. He flinched at the dark taste, swallowing it down quickly and wincing even more. Lord, this coffee's terrible! he thought sullenly. At least it took away the salt taste that still lingered. 

Of a sudden, he felt impelled to look back towards camp. Scanning the multiple tents, he saw something that made his eyes narrow. Burns, wash basin and shaving razor in hand, was talking with that blasted O'Connell! He caught him motioning towards him--no, towards the graves. 

"Oh, hell," Daniels cursed softly to himself. That's all they needed! O'Connell and his lot knowing their troubles. Burns always was too damn nice for his own good! 

Shaking his head, Daniels made his way back into camp. Henderson had gone to bed, and he had no desire to speak with O'Connell. So, on a question derived out of boredom, he sought out Dr. Chamberlain. 

He found the scholar sitting under the curtain of a lean-to, not far from the entrance into Hamunaptra. The Egyptologist seemed quite engrossed in a leather-bound book, lips moving as he silently read to himself. 

"Interesting?" 

Chamberlain jumped clear out of his skin at the sound of Daniels' voice, knocking the hanging lantern above his head and setting it swinging. The other grinned, leaning his arm lightly against the frame. 

Regaining himself and adjusting his spectacle, he responded easily, "Nothing so interesting to you, Mr. Daniels." 

Without waiting for an offer, Daniels stooped into the slight enclosure, catching the lantern and holding it still before sitting down across from the Egyptologist. 

The doctor asked with an impatient courtesy, "Anything I can do for you?" 

Daniels replied with a straight-forward question. "You said earlier there was something in that statue." Chamberlain nodded. "What?" 

"Of course I cannot say for certain. Up until now I myself have had to humor Hamunaptra as a legend. Its been studied merely as a folklore." 

"Okay, then uncertainly, what's there?" 

The Egyptologist leaned towards him, as if about to share a secret. "Many notable scholars seem to be in agreement as to what is supposedly hidden within the confides of Anubis. Something you and your partners will find most valuable." 

Daniels set his coffee cup aside. "I'm listening." 

"History tells that it's made out of gold." 

Eyes lighting with excitement, Daniels said, "So that's why O'Connell wanted to keep that statue."

"No doubt." 

Something clicked in Daniels mind, and he cynically wondered what exactly O'Connell was asking Burns. He opened his mouth to say something more, but the lantern began swaying again, its fire dimming against a sudden breeze. The wind had changed it seemed, bringing to his ears the sound of people stirring. He exchanged a look with Chamberlain. 

"Someone's on the move," Daniels remarked, his tone oddly casual. "Maybe the rest of them diggers decided to high-tail it outta here!"

Chamberlain thought it strange that he should make light of something quite serious. "That doesn't worry you?" he asked.

He smiled nastily. "Naw. Without that squirrelly little guide of ours, they'll never make it back anyway."

"Then who, pray tell, will do all the work?" the Egyptologist inquired with a tactful sarcasm. "Need I remind you, Mr. Daniels, that you and your partners nearly killed yourselves today?" 

Daniels' blue eyes became black slits, shadows playing across his face as he said, "We always have you, Doc." 

Chamberlain's jaw dropped and he clutched the parasol that sat across his lap, insulted by the remark. He appeared to be unable to come up with a useful response. Suddenly, he didn't have the opportunity. 

Daniels blinked, feeling something shift in the sand. It wasn't the wind this time, to be sure. The sounds of movement that he had heard before grew louder--increasingly louder. Whatever it was, it was drawing near. The coffee in his cup began to ripple from the vibrations of the oncoming noise, the tent flaps moving up and down like waves. Then he heard it. The clear and distinguishable sound of horses!

He was on his feet in a flash, mental alarms sounding even as battle cries arose from the City entrance. Daniels drew his guns as he slipped out of the tent behind the doctor, dumb-struck at the sight he beheld. 

The camp was under siege by countless dark-cloaked riders! 

Fear made Dr. Chamberlain quicker to react. "Mr. Henderson!" he wailed, turning and running in the other direction. _"Wake up!!" _

The Bedouins opened fire immediately, scimitar blades catching the moonlight with lethal grace. Daniels managed to get one shot off before he was forced back by the sheer number of them. But as they drew closer he was able to get cleaner shots, blasting away and dropping as many as he could. 

The Mumia Riders set torches to their tents, the blaze shooting towards the sky and illuminating the camp in a fiery orange glow. Diggers ran for cover helplessly, some struck down in their flight. It was total chaos! 

Daniels backed towards the large tent he shared with the others, hoping to find them intact and seeking the safety in their combined revolvers. A horse as dark as the night slid towards him, and he quickly took aim on the rider, sending him out of the saddle with one shot. But there was simply too many of them.

He cocked his gun and jerked the trigger, but it wasn't the muzzle flash of his own weapon that he saw. He had no time to react. A shooting pain squeezed the muscles in his left arm, the impact of the shot viciously knocking him to the ground like a full-frontal blow; Daniels spun and fell. 

The Mumia who had shot him was struck down by Henderson's pair of revolvers. The black rider fell dead from his horse, dropping his pistol, his blade gone flying; Henderson flinched from the sword as it catapulted to the earth near the fallen American. 

Daniels reacted instinctively, knowing he was left vulnerable if he didn't get back up. Despite the pain, he rolled off his still good arm and fired a shot. Burns and Henderson were suddenly over him, protectively. Burns grabbed Daniels' bloodied arm, none-too-gently in his haste to help his friend to his feet. Daniels gritted his teeth, trying to force the agony from his mind, but he managed to stand, leaning into Burns for support. His left arm was numb, useless, hanging limply in Burns' grasp. He had lost his grip on his secondary gun.

Mind whirling in panic, Daniels could hardly believe his eyes as he watched the Mumia Riders suddenly back down. Diggers seemed baffled as well, stopping stone still as one strident voice echoed off the temple pillars. The voice was clear, spoken in English. 

"Enough! We will shed no more blood!"

Gasping, wired from the pain and the threat of doom, Daniels was astounded, yet he would not let his gun fall. Burns' hand gripping his arm was white-knuckled, and Henderson watched each rider with uncertainty, guns still out and waiting. All of them sought out the speaker, their apparent savior. 

Daniels was vaguely stunned when he saw O'Connell by the fire side, holding a lit stick of dynamite, brandishing it like a dagger. Always the collected fighter, O'Connell was cautiously summing up one specific Bedouin with black tattoos on his dark face and scimitar in hand. The other was doing the same to the American. 

Obviously the leader of the Mumia Riders, the man said in a heavily accented voice, "But you must leave. Leave this place or die." His eyes never left O'Connell. "You have one day!" 

With no other words they could understand save for that lone warning, the man slung himself into the saddle of a waiting horse without the use of stirrups, calling out in his foreign tongue to his band. Daniels watched, shock beginning to settle in, as the man turned his horse's head and kicked him into a gallop. The rest of the Mumia followed, leaving their camp site in fire and ruins. 

As the maelstrom of hoof beats faded into the night, Daniels sucked in a rattling gush of air, suddenly feeling the warmth of his own blood oozing down his arm. Burns helped to steady him, but for a moment none of them had any words. 

Even though relief and agony were making him suddenly weak, Daniels felt a pounding excitement. He spoke up eagerly. "See, that proves it! Old Seti's fortune's gotta be under this sand!" 

Henderson was on the verge of smiling despite the whole ordeal, quick to agree. "For them to protect it like this you just know there's treasure down there!" 

Daniels gave one last, dark look into the night, pushing his sleeve up against the wound. A vehement pain lanced up his arm at his own touch, and he caught his breath. He pressed the hot metal of his revolver against the hole in hopes of stopping the bleeding and sealing it up, trying to inspect how bad it was.

"No." The sound of O'Connell's sure voice disagreeing with their assumptions made him feel worse. "These men are a desert people. They value water, not gold." 

Daniels watched out of the corner of his eye as Burns, shaving cream still smeared across his face, tried to appear casual as he holstered his gun and went over to stand where the mercenary was holding a dusty, shaken Evelyn. 

"You know," Burns said thoughtfully, "maybe just at night, we could, ah, combine forces, hmm?" He looked at O'Connell expectantly, who simply stared back at him. 

Daniels wanted to sneer at the idea, but found he didn't really have the energy reserves left. Henderson, still maintaining his weapons, came to his friend's aid, leaving Burns to negotiate with O'Connell; at this point, he didn't really care who slept where, either. 

Henderson took Daniels' left wrist, asking, "How bad is it?" 

"Get off me. I'll be fine," he replied defensively, not wanting O'Connell to see him weakened. 

Dr. Chamberlain, battered parasol in hand, said, "You really ought to clean it up, Mr. Daniels, or else it could get infected." 

He turned to him with sarcastic sincerity, his voice gravely and cracking. "Thank you, doctor. The thought hadn't crossed my mind." 

Henderson pitifully slapped his friend on the back, instantly sorry he did so; the both of them winced painfully. Henderson didn't bother to apologize, knowing it unnecessary at this point. Wavering ever so slightly on his feet, Daniels went to sit by the fireside with Henderson as the Egyptologist went about giving orders to the natives to put out the fires and clear away the carnage. Burns and O'Connell helped to bury the dead, a tedious task at such a late hour. 

Daniels drained a flask of whiskey as he let Henderson tend his injury; even though he preferred to do so himself, his own hands were shaking too badly to be gentle. Henderson rolled up his sleeve, peeling the cloth off the wet skin. He took up a canteen. 

"This is going to hurt like hell," he warned. 

Daniels grimaced. "Don't I know it." 

Henderson nodded. giving his friend a slanted grin as he dumped warm water on the bullet hole in Daniels' left arm, quickly patting it dry with a clean cloth strip. It was too late to be gentle. 

_"Son of a bitch!"_

Daniels forced himself not to double over against the pain, his hand flexing into a knotted fist. It did sting like mad, blood washing down his arm and splattering the dry sand. Grinding his teeth until his jaw ached did little to help. Daniels' watched Henderson's progress to give his mind something to focus on.

"So where do you think they came from?" Henderson suddenly asked. 

"You mean them guard dogs?" When the other nodded, he scoffed. "Who the hell cares? Now that we know they're here, watching us, next time we'll be more prepared." 

"Then maybe it's a good idea to join camps with O'Connell's team." 

"We can handle them," Daniels protested. 

Henderson made a face, glancing at his friend's arm he was stitching. "If you're trying to get out of doing work by gettin' yourself shot--" he joked. 

"I'm trying to save us from losing our treasure," growled Daniels. Then, "Ouch! _Jes-us!_" 

Henderson was serious, reminding him, "'Leave or die'. And he gave us one day. Now I'm not too smart, but I do believe that means they're coming back." 

"We only need one more day. Chamberlain says there's treasure in that statue." 

"And if he's wrong?"

Daniels was confident in his response. "Then I s'pose we'll just have to hunker down for another fight." 

Not sure whether to sigh or smile, Henderson gave the wound one final look over, level brows knit together and one finger pressed into it. Daniels fought off a wave of nausea at the pressure, knowing it had to be done.

"Bullet went right on through," Henderson diagnosed, pleased. He flashed his typical youthful smile. "As long as you don't bleed out, I think you'll live." 

Daniels tried returning the smile. "That's good to know." 

He held his right hand against the arm as Henderson bandaged it. "Try not to move your arm at all tonight when you sleep."

"If I sleep," Daniels corrected. He looked over the snapping flames of the fire and watched O'Connell escort Evelyn back up to their tiny camp. "I don't think any of us will be sleeping too well tonight." 

***

As he predicted, Daniels barely slept the remainder of that night. When he did close his eyes, he wasn't even certain if he slept or blacked-out. The dark night was continuously broken by the sound of gun shots still echoing in his ears, creating nightmares that forced him to awaken. 

He rose before the full sun began its climb over the distant peaks and dunes, moving stiffly and cradling his injured arm against his chest. He re-dressed his wound, which proved a tad difficult, and left his comrades still slumbering in the tent. Out in the early morning air, he found the diggers preparing breakfast, and the smell made his stomach do flip flops in disgust. What disturbed him the most was the sight of O'Connell and Jonathan moving their scant gear and packs into the American camp.

Daniels said without any humor in his tone, "Well, if it isn't my favorite mercenary." 

Tossing his pack at the American's feet, O'Connell smirked and replied pleasantly enough, "Morning." 

"Make yourselves at home." 

"We are." 

Daniels gave him a mock-smile. He wasn't happy about this situation at all. Just then the woman shuffled over, setting an armload of things down, rather sluggish. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused when she looked at him. 

"Good morning, Mr. Daniels," she said in a husky voice, though the greeting was nonetheless sincere. 

Daniels tipped his head to her politely, giving her the once over. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn she was suffering from a hangover. He wouldn't ever have guessed O'Connell to be such a dog! 

"Ready to go back down, are we?" Jonathan suddenly asked, shifting on his feet like an excited child. 

Daniels flicked a brow. "Why are you in such an all-fire hurry, O'Connell?" 

It was Jonathan who answered. "We found something of our own." He seemed eager to explain, but his sister's elbow in his ribs silenced his enthusiasm. 

They turned to leave, but before following suite, O'Connell said to him, dripping with sarcasm, "Happy hunting." He saluted him, all smarmy, before going.

Daniels glowered at them for a moment, then his mind flew back to their own site. Feeling suddenly as if it were another race, he returned to the tent and found Henderson and Burns up, though still groggy; Burns squinted at him, his glasses still at his side. 

"Rise and shine, ladies," Daniels said jokingly. Then his eyes grew serious. "Let's go check out our prize." Henderson grinned from ear to ear. 

They gathered the diggers together, roused the still sleeping Beni, and made their way back down into the depths of Hamunaptra. They recalled the way easily enough, the corridors more welcoming and familiar than their first day prior. 

In the Anubis Chamber, Dr. Chamberlain had the excavation site well in order, bright and early. He sat at a small table near the statue, lit by one small candle lantern, and he was carefully writing in a journal, compiling information that he perhaps thought would make him famous. He said something to the two natives with him, then smiled when he noticed the Americans enter the room.

"Ah, gentlemen," he said. "I think we're ready to proceed with the digging." 

"Great news, Doc," said Henderson, thumbing back the brim of his hat. "Then let's waste no more time." 

He motioned to the diggers and two men quickly detached themselves from the lot, reluctant but wishing it over with as fast as possible. The Egyptologist and the three Americans pressed near to the mouth of the compartment. Burns timidly fingered the dry rim. When his skin came back unscathed, he nodded to the others. Chamberlain ordered the diggers forward.

Daniels stepped aside to let them through. When a muscle in his left shoulder throbbed, he unconsciously hooked his left hand under his right suspender to keep from using that arm. Excitement left his mouth dry, and he breathed shallow breaths through his mouth, as if stirring the air any would prolong the process. The fingers on his good hand twitched, afire with anticipation. Burns and Henderson were much the same; Burns kept shining his glasses, anxious, while Henderson's eyes shone hopefully. 

This is what it's all about, Daniels thought to himself, staring at the diggers' every move as if motion was an entire new fascination. 

He watched with silent excitement, a turbulent jittery feeling that clutched at his chest until he couldn't breathe. Their Egyptologist kept ordering the diggers on sternly, and they strained to reach further into the compartment, fear obvious on their faces. One of the men jerked at something, which scratched across the stone belly of the statue. Finally they managed to get ahold of it, and began to drag it out.

Daniels jaw went slack at the sight of the large box they pulled out. It was adorned with colorful pictures and ancient writing. He noticed quickly how they seemed to be having difficulties maneuvering it in their arms, and he just knew that meant it contained something valuable, or a lot of something valuable. His eyes glittered. 

They carefully brought the chest further out, and at a brisk command, they eased it to the floor. Daniels and the others followed the chest eagerly; Daniels' hand kept moving out as if to touch it. 

When they managed to set it down, the two diggers backed away hurriedly, trying to hide behind the other natives. They each of them stared at the chest with an ominous look, a few muttering something unintelligible. As soon as they were off the box, the Americans were upon it.

Daniels, gaping in wonderment at what they had found, knelt down beside it and timidly put a hand towards the chest. When Burns blew years of dust off the lid, he drew his hand away. But only for a minute. He caressed the lid, a delighted smile spreading across his face. 

The cheerfulness was short lived as Dr. Chamberlain immediately snatched his hand off the chest. Startled, Daniels glared up at the man's suddenly worried face,

"There is a curse upon this chest," the Egyptologist warned, his eyes devouring the hieroglyphic writing scrolled across the lid. 

Daniels' disbelief in such things showed in his sloe-eyed look, and he responded with snide, "Curse my ass." 

Henderson was all smiles, saying in a simper, "Yeah, who cares?" He just wanted to open it! 

"Have a care, Mr. Henderson," Chamberlain stated sharply, jabbing his finger in the American's face. "In these hallowed grounds that which was set forth in ancient times is as strong today as it was then." 

Half-rolling his eyes, Daniels began working his jaw impatiently. He didn't really give a damn enough to hear Chamberlain's useless prattle. 

Henderson nodded without hearing, and urged the doctor on with a flurry of his hands. "Yeah, yeah, we understand. What's it say?" 

Swallowing, Daniels leaned in closer when the Egyptologist settled over the writing, deciphering the ancient words with learned ease. However, the nonsense he spoke went over the Americans heads, having little bearing on their thoughts at this point. Daniels stared at the man's finger, hovering over a symbol, and waited for a translation. 

He didn't like what he heard. 

"Death will come on swift wings to whomsoever opens this chest." 

Daniels' eyes leapt to Chamberlain in astonishment, suddenly caring what the Egyptologist made of the situation. The doctor seemed expressionless, but his friends were just as aghast as he was. 

Suddenly, despite the scant size of the enclosed chamber, a soundless wind began to ripple though the room. The torches flickered. Daniels looked over his shoulder, wondering what could have caused such a breeze. His lips were of a sudden dry, throat parched. Now what? 

Then gushed through the Anubis Chamber with a harsh vengeance that doused the flames on one of the torches. Daniels squinted against the wind, swiftly rising to his feet as Henderson's hat blew off his head, tumbling backward. The Americans were all up, armed and ready for the unseen danger. The diggers reacted like frightened cattle, crying out and running out of the room, trampling one of their own in their desperate attempt to flee. 

Daniels watched them run off, slightly shaken, but instead of heeding their example, he thought them foolish. They waited, but nothing more happened. So he eased back down on one knee beside the chest, eyes dark and uncertain. He heard Henderson holster his revolver, the sound loud in the dismal room. 

Their guide, Beni, was swaying nervously on his feet, looking all around the chamber in fear. He had his gun drawn and a death-grip on his torch. "We should not be here," he whined softly. "This is not good."

Ignoring his whimpers, Dr. Chamberlain read on to his companions. "It says, there is one, the Undead, who, if brought back to life, is bound by sacred law to consummate this curse." 

Giving a slight nod and raising his eyes to look at no one, Daniels remarked in a dead-pan manner, "Well let's make sure we don't bring anyone back from the dead then, huh?" 

His joke was lost on the dark moment. He met Henderson's quivering gaze with a hard one of his own, suggesting to the other that there was nothing to fear from any curse. Deep inside, Daniels wasn't even convinced of the fact himself. The premonition, the reaction of those around him and the past events left him with the feeling that he should be scared. 

The Egyptologist continued the translation: "He will kill all those who open this chest, and assimilate their organs and fluids--" 

Daniels shared a sickened look with Burns, whose eyes were as large as saucers. 

"--And in so doing he will regenerate, and no longer be the Undead, but a plague upon this earth." 

A heavy moment ensued, the dull stillness weighing in on them like a shadow falling. In that moment, no one even took notice of Beni, shaking like a leaf, backing towards the exit. 

"Well," Henderson said prudently, "we didn't come all this way for nothin'." 

Daniels nodded as Burns piped up eagerly, saying with determination, "That's right!" 

"It's the curse..." 

Everyone turned to gaze up at Beni, startled by his quiet statement. He was drenched in a cold sweat, eyes glassy with fear. One foot after the other, he slithered towards the chamber door.

"It's the curse. The curse..." As if his words struck terror home into his own mind, Beni turned on his heels and fled, screaming a last, echoing warning. "Beware, the curse! Beware!" 

The remaining group seemed uncertain of what to make of the warning, not sure whether or not they should follow his example or simply think the little man off his head. Leaning slightly into his injured arm, Daniels drew his lips together in a firm line, eyes caught on the doorway, and convinced himself of one thing: 

"Stupid superstitious bastard," he said coldly of Beni. 

His mind lingered so on their guide that he didn't seem to notice that Henderson and Burns had summed up their courage and were grasping the lid of the chest, trying to force it open. When he heard the seal give, he started to turn and look, but suddenly the lid flew off in their hands, and a heavy blanket of smoke and dust rushed out. Daniels lurched to his feet, almost smacking into Burns as a thick cloud of utter blackness enveloped them all.

It was like a sandstorm had rolled into the chamber, and for awhile Daniels could see nothing at all around him. Apprehension made him hold his arm closer, his hasty moves causing the wound to throb again, seeping a little blood. As the blackness started to dissipate and the dust settle, he could see Henderson across from him. He was staring down on the chest, gun on it. He glanced over at the Egyptologist and Burns, both looking dumbfounded.

Trying to swallow against his raw throat, Daniels finally managed to step closer for a look, hesitant at first. He waved his good arm through the air, clearing the dust away as he knelt back down with the others. A display such as that could only signal something important inside the chest, and he was anxious to find out what! 

Dr. Chamberlain was breathing erratically, and his hands shook a little as he reached into the open chest. Whatever lay inside was wrapped in gauze and burlap, as if it were something fragile and precious. Daniels held his breath as the doctor undid the loose tie, drawing the wrappings back. Chamberlain's own breath caught at what their eyes beheld. 

It was sheets of gray metal, bound together. All of it engraved with more of the hieroglyphic pictures. It didn't shine nor glitter, and it certainly wasn't valuable looking. There was nothing at all to catch the eye, yet Chamberlain was bedazzled. 

"Oh my God," he rasped. "It does exist." 

He took hold of the thing gingerly, raising it from its burial sight in awe. Daniels was confused, staring at the dark slab as if it were a mere pile of stones. It wasn't gold at all! 

Chamberlain was enthralled with it. He said as if talking to himself, "The Book of the Dead!" 

Daniels was extremely disappointed. "A book?" he said softly in disbelief--and anger. "Who cares about a book? Where the hell's the treasure?!" 

"This, gentlemen," Dr. Chamberlain responded adamantly. He rose to his feet, still clutching the book. The Americans moved with him, eyes on the unusual trophy trying to see what he saw, puzzled. "This is treasure!"

Daniels couldn't think of a word to say; he merely stared at the thing incredulously. Looking largely disgusted, Henderson spoke up, and Daniels' eyes flashed over to him once in understanding. 

"Hell," Henderson said with a plaintive scowl, "I wouldn't trade you for a brass--" 

Before he could finish that sentence, Henderson kicked the side of the chest in frustration, and one of the heavy sides fell off with a resounding thump! Daniels stepped back, gazing down on the new opening in the chest in wonderment. His jaw fell at the sight.

Inside were five fantastic looking jars, made out of alabaster and each with a sculpted stopper: a baboon, jackal, falcon, lion (which unfortunately was shattered) and a human pharaoh head, each one exquisite in detail. They were also gilded in gold! 

Everyone lowered themselves down once again, drawn to the sight of the new treasures. Daniels crouched down, a smile starting to play on his lips as Burns laughed softly at the favorable turn of events. Henderson gaped in an excited way, pushing the Egyptologist away for a better look. The Americans were ecstatic that their time wasn't wasted for a mere book.

Chamberlain said with his customary finesse, "There's your treasure, gentlemen." He knew it was what they wanted to hear.

Satisfied and with a skewed smile, Daniels replied happily, "Well now we're on to somethin'." 

He reached in and pulled out one of the jars, the one with the jackal lid. It possessed long, pointy ears that he feared would break. Inspecting it gently, turning it about in his palm, Daniels' smile widened at the gold work catching the firelight and the smoothness of the barrel. It was nicely heavy. 

"It's not El Dorado," said Henderson, taking up the falcon-headed one, "but damn, it is beautiful!" He couldn't tear his eyes off it.

Burns took the remaining two that were still intact and handed the one with the baboon's head to Chamberlain. "Here, doctor," he said. "Consider it your payment, with thanks." 

The Egyptologist didn't refuse the offer, but he asked, with a sly casualness, "What should I do with the book?"

Standing up and fingering his prize, Daniels said nonchalantly, "This isn't an archaeological dig, Doc. You hang onto it."

He beamed, but quickly checked himself. Daniels' mind, however, had wandered to other things. The notion of curses and death abandoned, he wondered how many other statues lay within the City ruins. And smiled. 

  



	3. Behold

  


**Behold**

  
Another night spread across the desert with no tell-tale signs that the dark Mumia Riders were anywhere about, waiting to wage another minor war on the campsite. At the moment, the Americans could have cared less. 

Daniels held fast to his own jar, still maintaining his arm as if it were in a sling, and followed his friends towards the campfire where dinner was being prepared. To keep their rations at a fairly high quantity for the journey back to Cairo, they were relying right then on whatever the desert had to offer by way of meals. The putrid aroma of fricasseed rats was hardly appealing, but it was not for the food that they ambled over to the fire. 

O'Connell sat with Beni and Jonathan, prodding at the snapping flames with a skewered piece of roasting meat. His expression was rather blasé until he heard the Americans approach. Rumors were spreading among the diggers concerning the "treasure" that O'Connell's party had discovered, and via Chamberlain's translation, the Americans had found out that they had unearthed a corpse, a bonafide Egyptian Mummy. It was great news! Their mission was to make their elated moment last a little longer by showing off what they found. 

"Say, O'Connell," Henderson said smugly, "how much do you think these babies'll fetch back home?" He waved his shiny white jar in front of him, letting the fire illuminate its brilliance.

They each sat before the make-shift hearth, making certain that their treasures were well in view. Daniels sidled in last as Burns stated, polishing the little pharaoh head with precision, "We heard you boys found yourselves a nice gooey mummy." He snickered. "Well congratulations." 

Daniels said with a fake seriousness, "You know if ya dry that fella out, you might be able to sell him for firewood." 

It felt so good to rub it in! Laughing, beaming, he watched O'Connell respond with a tiny mock-laugh, which only encouraged his good mood. He lowered his head over the jar, reveling in the moment even as he made certain there were no flaws or remaining grains of sand to mar his prize. 

"Look what I found!" 

Evelyn came over to the fire, her hands full of something that chinked together. She stood beside her brother, keeping her hands outstretched excitedly. 

O'Connell turned to Beni. "You're in her seat." 

Beni forced a light chuckle, thinking he was kidding. 

_"Now."_

"Yep!" The gamin jumped to his feet and sidled over with his skewer. 

As if she hadn't even noticed the exchange, Evelyn sat down in the now free seat next to the mercenary, displaying her findings for all to see. "Scarab skeletons," she declared. "Flesh eaters. I found them inside our friend's coffin." 

Daniels looked over with mild interest. She rolled one of the rock-like skeletons between two fingers. The hollowed-out shell still caught the light, and it resembled somewhat a large beetle. He idly stroked the side of his mouth, leaning into his hand, then draped his arm over his leg as his listened, curiosity sparked. 

"They can stay alive for years feasting on the flesh of a corpse," Evelyn explained. "Unfortunately for our friend, he was still alive when they started eating him." 

Daniels' lip curled back in an appalled grimace as he stared at her, wondering if she were joking. She wasn't. His throat muscles constricted as if he wanted to gulp but could not manage it. The notion left a horrible image rolling around in his mind that he couldn't shake. 

"So someone threw these in with our guy and they slowly ate him alive?" O'Connell questioned in slight disbelief. 

She replied with a smirk, "_Very_ slowly." 

Daniels rubbed his lip again, this time a little fidgety, as Jonathan remarked, "Well, he certainly wasn't a popular fellow when they planted him, was he?" 

"No," stated O'Connell with mirth, "he probably got a little too frisky with the pharaoh's daughter." He grinned wickedly over at Daniels and the other Americans, who made not a comment.

"Well, according to my readings, our friend suffered the _Hom-Dai_, the worst of all ancient Egyptian curses, one reserved only for the most evil of blasphemers," the librarian said, her voice growing steadily serious. "In all of my research I've never heard of this curse having actually been performed." 

Daniels couldn't help it; he sat engrossed in her every word, not knowing a thing about Egypt himself. Before he hadn't bothered to learn anything of the country because, after all, he was a treasure seeker with no need to know such tales. But to hear one told with such dedication was an intriguing and beguiling thing. His expression was dark as he listened, one eyebrow arched. Unconsciously, he touched his bandaged arm, caressing his rough palm over the dressings. It certainly was an astounding tale, fitting of the City of the Dead. 

"That bad, huh?" O'Connell mused.

"Yes," she responded. "Well, they never used it because they feared it so." Her tone changed, grew more shadowy. Yet she wore a vague smile. "It's written that if a victim of the _Hom-Dai_ should ever arise, he would bring with him the ten plagues of Egypt." 

She looked over the faces before her one by one, letting her meaning sink in. Daniels met her eyes, his gaze a bit vacant as his mind shifted back to the chest they had found only that morning. 

"Ten plagues?" O'Connell asked in astonishment. "You mean all ten plagues?" 

Beni said quietly, "Like what that Moses guy did to that Pharaoh?" 

She nodded. "That's one way of putting it."

Jonathan sat back, thinking and counting on his fingers. "Let's see, there were frogs, flies, locusts..." 

Burns picked up where he left off. "Hail and fire." 

"The sun turning black," said Henderson, staring at a scarab skeleton he held. 

Daniels appeared to be in his own little realm, and for the moment it looked as if he wouldn't join in the conversation, but soon he added with a blank expression, "Water turning to blood." He held his injured arm closer. 

Suddenly Evelyn laughed at their dismal countenance, thinking them all foolish. Stifling a bubble of laughter, she yanked a stick out of the fire and offered the steaming, charred mass to the lot. 

"Fried gizzard, anyone?" 

***

"What do you suppose was inside?" 

Within their tent, Burns sat cross-legged on his bunk, holding his alabaster jar to his ear and gently rattling it, listening to its contents echo inside. Daniels was laying on his blankets with his head propped up on a rolled pack, right arm draped across his eyes as he tried to sleep, without success. His wounded left arm was beginning to hurt again, and he held it still over his stomach. 

Huskily he replied, "Sounds like sand."

Burns perched his glasses on the tip of his nose as he gazed at the jar. "Why would there be sand inside?"

"I dunno, because we're in the middle of the desert?" 

"But it's sealed," Burns protested, trying to twist the pharaoh head and remove the stopper. It was shut up tightly with wax, and so many years left it like rock. "Sealed pretty well, at that. Nothing could have gotten inside, and you'd have to be super-strong to open it without breaking the thing."

"Why don't you ask that girl?" Daniels said. "She thinks she knows everything." 

Burns shrugged, unseen by the other. "I'm sure if it were important Chamberlain would have told us."

"Mmm," Daniels agreed without thinking on it.

Suddenly they heard approaching footsteps, and someone's shadow fell across their tent flaps. Daniels snapped alert, sitting up, and simultaneously he and Burns drew their guns and aimed at the mouth of the tent.

It was only Henderson, who stooped inside with his palms raised to show he was no threat, obviously. Daniels let out a rush of air and leaned the back of his shoulders into his pack. Henderson wore a slight grin, chewing on his tobacco casually. 

"A little jumpy, aren't we, boys?" he asked around his mouthful, coming to sit down on his pallet. He checked to make sure his jar was still hidden safely with his belongings, just out of habit. 

"Cautious," Burns answered, even though his face was a mask of taut nerves. He returned his weapon home to its holster. 

"As long as you don't start wearing black, Henderson," Daniels said, "you'll be fine." 

Henderson made a small sound of acknowledgment in the back of his throat, staring outside as he said, "I don't think those Bedouins are coming back. They would have been here by now." 

"Unless they were waiting for you to go to bed, too," Daniels remarked. "Three birds with one stone." Though he didn't sound at all worried, still he hid his revolver within easy access under the pack he was using as a pillow. The other gun he left strapped to his side. 

"Damn," Henderson said. It was just a word, not meant as anything. He spat out his wad and juice into the ready spittoon and laid down, staring up at the temporary ceiling. "So," he inquired, "what's on the agenda for tomorrow?" 

Daniels looked over at him incredulously. His response was blunt. "We go back down." 

Burns asked of him, stashing away his jar, "You believe there's still treasure down there?" 

"Damn straight," he replied deftly. "I don't think we've even begun to scratch the surface here, fella's. Let's not forget there was once an entire city standing inside this volcano, and I'll wager you--" 

He was quickly cut off by Henderson. "No. Oh, no, Daniels. No more of your bets. They cost us too much." 

Daniels couldn't help but to glare at the other's rude interruption. "Hell, Henderson, if you're ready to pack up and head home then by all means, go ahead. You're still guaranteed your fair share of the profits. But I'll be damned if I back down now. We've come too far." 

"That's not what I meant," said Henderson, but he gave the tiniest of nods to show his agreement. "We didn't travel all this way to grab what we can and run." 

"You're god-damn right we didn't," said Daniels strongly. 

Burns appeared thoughtful for the moment, stretching out on his bunk. Then he sighed, rather pensively. He said wistfully, "I'm getting tired of the desert. I want to go home." 

Henderson exchanged a look with Daniels, his eyes holding a sort of sorrowful camaraderie, a gaze to suggest pity for his friend. But regardless, Daniels was unmoved. He was home-sick, just like the rest of them, and he did care what his friends thought, but he was in this journey for the duration. 

He asked, "Wouldn't you rather return home _rich_?" 

Burns smiled to himself. "That was the plan." 

"It still is," responded Henderson, eyes caught once more on the off-white material above their heads. 

Daniels gave a smile. "Then it's settled," he said. "Tomorrow we'll go deeper into the City, find old Seti's treasure chamber, and make this a journey for the record books."

He settled in for the night, crossing his ankles as he stretched out, not really comfortable, but feeling confident and ready for anything. Burns and Henderson were with him on this, and they were in it to the end. "We are gonna be rich, boys. Come hell or high water." 

  
_It was an oddly chilly night, the stars that blanketed the sky were sinister and uncaring. Nothing seemed right, but everything seemed dark--tonight the world was afire with rage. _

It was a feeling more than anything else, an eerie sensation that clawed at his gut and rang in his ears without noise. Daniels shivered and held his wounded arm to his body. His eyes saw nothing at the moment, caught in a dreamless state and held by that dismal, penetrating feeling. A feeling like ice. Foreboding, heavy and real. Something was coming, but what? Those black-clad Mumia Riders again? He didn't hear them. He couldn't hear their horses or their guns. 

Cold. It was so very cold, something that struck him queer being in the middle of Egypt. Something was going to happen, soon. He just knew it. Suddenly his eyes fell into focus, and he could see... 

Where was he? There were walls all around, stone pillars engraved with heiroglyphics and ancient artwork. It was a temple. There stood the tall statue of Anubis, God of the Underworld, but in full frame, not partially buried as they had found it. Hamunaptra? Yes, it had to be. He was inside the ruins, but as he strained to see what he assumed was familiar, it changed. It alternated between two worlds waiting to collide: the dilapidated, crumbled remains they had discovered, and a city that once was, dark and very dangerous. 

Suddenly, the whispers returned, mocking and laughing. An image flashed through his mind, something he had never seen before, yet it played out as if it were a memory. A stone coffin...a man, completely wrapped in bandages, wriggling, pleading...someone, human, but wearing a mask made to look like a jackal...scarabs. There came the sound of a lid coming to rest, the boom of a coffin being eternally sealed. It resounded in his ears, and suddenly Daniels felt as if he could no longer breathe. 

Then the scream, agonizing and vengeful, a ghastly roar that shook to the very core of the earth itself. The fear. The Curse... 

"NOOOO!!" 

Daniels stirred, eyelids fluttering, and he suddenly jerked awake, feeling the tightness in his chest dissipate as the memory of the dream swiftly faded into consciousness. _A dream,_ he reassured himself. _It was only a nightmare. _He passed a hand--not even realizing that it was his injured arm--over his face, feeling feverish and sweaty. Things quickly settled, returned to normal. 

But not for long. 

_"You must not read from the book!!" _

The shouting made Daniels prop himself up on one elbow to look at Henderson in bewilderment. His partner was sitting up as well, hands shaking; he looked like another roused from a nightmare. _What the hell is going on? _

Burns was awake also, pale and unsteady, but he swung his legs over the side of the cot to stand, alarmed. Suddenly, another mysterious, unknown wind began to blow, swinging the lantern that hung in their tent. Daniels was swiftly on his feet. Burns put on his glasses and the Americans rushed outside to find O'Connell, Evelyn and Jonathan already up. 

Daniels froze beside Burns, Henderson bumping into him as they all stared up at the sky in amazement. Dawn wasn't far off, the blue-black sky slowly brightening at a snail's pace. But a shadow was forming across the horizon, blotting out the scant light as it swept towards them like a raven tide. Daniels' mouth fell open, eyes wide with shock. 

Closer and closer it flowed, small shapes detaching themselves, becoming more distinct. It looked like--bugs! Daniels could have sworn they were locusts, but he suddenly didn't care to stay and evaluate them. 

The Americans turned and fled just as O'Connell bellowed, _"Run!"_

There followed an odd, buzzing rush of sound as the insects flooded into the camp. Daniels ran as fast as he could with the others, sense enough remaining to keep his wounded arm still, hearing the cries of some of the diggers fade away behind them. They raced to the temple door, sliding a little in the soft, loose earth, each slowing only to snatch up a torch. Burns, first inside the door, stopped to hand a torch to Daniels, lighting it with his own. 

Henderson slipped through the door, grabbing a flaming torch just as a horde of chirping bugs (grasshoppers!) flew into the ruins, soaring everywhere, seeping inside, as if following them. 

"Get a move on, fellas!" Burns said briskly as Henderson led them further and further inside, too scared to figure out where exactly they were going. 

"Where they hell did they come from?!" Henderson asked in a frightened tone, brushing away cobwebs and dust from his escape path. 

"I ain't waitin' around to find out!" Daniels said loudly, close at his heels. Three native diggers were rambling nonsense words behind them, hell-bent to stay with the American leaders.

The whole ruckus seemed to resound savagely inside the close quarters of the ruins, every word and footstep a whir of sounds that left them more shaken, unable to comprehend any of what had just occurred. Their torched did little to alleviate the black atmosphere, and Daniels made certain to stay close behind Henderson, not wanting to lose sight of him in the impeding darkness. 

Fear of the strange, sudden swarm made the Americans over-zealous in their need to escape the plague of insects, and none of them seemed to noticed just how deep into Hamunaptra they had gone. Down one corridor, around a series of bends and turns, and they were soon in unfamiliar territory, their original excavation site lost. It seemed they had been running for hours, with no destination point and no thought of stopping. They were going nowhere fast. 

Suddenly, as if that thought struck him, Henderson came to an abrupt halt, and Daniels careened into his back, nearly losing his torch. Panting, a bit wild-eyed, he asked, "Why the hell'd ya stop?" 

Both men seemed to realize instantly that they'd never seen this particular chamber before. Their eyes followed the lights of their torches as they gazed about the new room anxiously. It was a large, sphereical chamber almost similar to all the others save for the vast columns all around, featuring grand designs of the winged Isis and the feather of Ma'at, ancient goddesses they knew only by name from skimming a tour book.

Oddly enough, there were no exits, no other way out. 

"Where are we?" Henderson asked, perplexed and frightened, actually expecting an answer. Daniels had none to give, sorely missing the expertise of their Egyptologist right then. 

"I dunno," was all he could say, uncertainty making him rock on his toes, full of the animal instinct of fight or flight. His whole body was tense, not sure which to respond with. 

Being lost inside the cursed City on top of everything else made Daniels hotly nervous, and the babbling of the diggers with them made him of a sudden edgy and uncomfortable, unable to think rationally. He rounded on the three men with a snarl. 

"Will you shut up!" he yelled, his voice booming, rattling in his own ears. They didn't understand the words, but the tone was quite distinct; they held their tongues. 

Just as things grew silent and they all began to fathom the goings-on and surroundings, Henderson asked, "Where's Burns?" 

Daniels exchanged a startled look with the other American. Always the one to voice his thoughts as if life were a series of dark jokes, he said, "Helluva time to play hide-and-seek." However, Henderson could see the worry that creased his brow. Then suddenly, as if on cue, they heard it--one of the most agonizing, gut-wrenching screams they had ever heard. It echoed off the walls, vibrating and stabbing, filtering down from the ceiling and chambers above. The tortured wail sent shivers down their spines, and the Americans stood back to back, uncertain and afraid. It was a frightening sound, filled with pure terror and trepidation. 

_"What the hell was that?!"_ Daniels' voice went high with baleful unease.

"It sounds like--" Henderson's brows knit together as his voice cut through the tremor; the scream died away as the recognition hit him. "Oh, my God," he whispered. 

It was Burns! 

Daniels turned a full circle, arms held out in disbelief. He looked at Henderson with horror in his eyes. "I thought he was right behind me," he admitted, his voice quivering with fear--and guilt.

In that moment, neither men took notice of the diggers scrambling around the room, looking for a means of escape. Their thought was that the bugs and the source of the scream were coming closer, trapping them inside the chamber and making them all easy pickings. 

"Burns!!" Henderson called out, hoping to hear his friend respond. He didn't. Henderson started towards the door, the way they'd come, Daniels following hurriedly. "We have to go back for him!" 

But before the words were even out of his mouth, one of the diggers found and pulled an old lever that was against the far wall, beside one of the columns. There came a grating, mechanical sound_...tap...tap...tap..._ and the door suddenly sealed before Henderson. Both Americans set upon it, but it was too late. It shut with a rolling, hollow _thump._

"Dammit!" cursed Daniels, fury curbing any fear. He turned to regard the diggers with a lethal glare, seeking to order them to undo whatever it was they had done. They didn't have time for these old Egyptian games, not with Burns in danger. 

Before he could do anything, there came another sound of systems working within the masonry, some sort of ancient device revolving, and one of the other columns began to rise up into the ceiling, turning in a spiral. Behind it lay another exit. Sprays of dust came drifting down around them. The native culprit said something eagerly and bolted for the new corridor. The idea that they had sprung yet another booby-trap on themselves made Daniels react; he leapt towards the man. 

"No! Wait, dammit!" 

The warning was lost on foreign ears, his reaction too late to do any good. All Daniels could do was grab a hold of one of the other diggers before he followed. 

As soon as the digger ran into the slight enclosure within, he triggered another ancient defense mechanism. An enormous blade, a crescent-shaped axe, swung from hiding from a slit in the wall, slicing the man in two. He barely had time to cry out once before there was a gurgling noise, then nothing at all. The deadly metal arc continued to swing like a pendulum until the momentum died. Their torch lights fell on the man's mutilated body. 

"Oh, Jesus," Henderson moaned faintly. For all his bold and icy countenance, Daniels had to turn away.

The gruesome silence that ensued was shattered by the third digger in hysterics; the man began clawing at the walls and columns, desperate for escape. One of the symbols under his groping hand gave under the pressure, and there came yet another turning of a wheel. Daniels tensed, waiting. Thankfully, their original entry was once more revealed. The Americans knew that if they didn't get out now, they may not ever. Daniels didn't much feel like dying down there and made the first move towards the doorway. 

Unfortunately, the crazed digger wasn't so smart. With one more press, the door began to close again. 

"No!" Henderson shouted to the man, but Daniels grabbed his friend by the shoulder and drug him to their last chance. 

"There's no time," he growled. "Leave him!" In the rumbling, chaotic noise, Henderson knew he was right. With a trap as swift as Seti's creation, berserk stragglers were doomed. 

Daniels slipped under the door, the stone just brushing the top of his head as he passed through. Henderson quickly followed, all but shoving the last of the digger through with him. The other didn't make it in time, his cries cut short as he was sealed up inside the chamber. Thinking now was a good time to worry about their own skins, the Americans left him behind, following the halls in hopes of finding their lost comrade and fleeing the damned City. 

They became completely turned around in the twisted maze of corridors and chambers. _It all looks the same._ Daniels put his hand against the wall, feeling the sand fall from under his fingers. They were groping in the dark, trying the proverbial needle in a haystack. The remaining digger rambled something softly, pressing nearer to him. Daniels glared at him until he ceased his whining and backed off. 

Henderson came to sliding halt without warning, squinting to see down the multitude of dark halls. "Which way did we come?" 

"You tell me," Daniels quipped. "You're the one who brought us down this far, O' glorious leader." 

Henderson turned to give him a heavy look. "Do you want to go first, Daniels? Go right ahead." He inclined his head and "polietly" offered to let Daniels proceed ahead of him. 

Instead of apologizing as he knew he should have, Daniels grimaced and pressed on. They cautiously began down another stretch, everyone's panting breaths reverberating and loud. Occasionally one of the torch flames crackled and sputtered, the orange glow reflecting off the glittery sand beneath their feet. Suddenly, some strange sound caught Daniels' ear, and he held his breath to listen; he motioned to Henderson to be still. 

"Did you hear that?" he asked, customary brow raised. 

Henderson shrugged. "Hear what?" 

It came again, a little louder this time. It was like a metallic chatter, a twittering sound similar to some odd-sounding bird heard from a distance. 

"I heard that," said Henderson; his eyes were baffled, but the tremor in his voice was foreboding. 

Daniels cocked his head to peer down the corridor, waving his hand for them to go on. A few silent steps and they came to a fork, a decision to proceed straight or turn right or left, with nothing behind them but shadows. 

The same sound returned, intense and swarming, gaining ground on them, which made Daniels uneasy. He shifted on his feet, anxious. The digger grabbed the sleeve of his injured arm, but Daniels snatched it away. Suddenly the three of them discovered what was producing the funny noise.

The clicking sounds became more and more insect-like as a dark mass came skittering down the hall before them, each little body iridescent and sparkling like fine amethyst. It was a wave of more bugs--large beetles with pinchers that flexed open and closed. seeking prey. One thought dawned on Daniels and Henderson at the same time. _Scarabs._ They exchanged a shocked and frightened look. 

The words left their mouths simultaneously. "Flesh eaters!"

Daniels clipped his friend's heels as they both ducked down the length to their left and ran before the scarabs drew any nearer. But they were out of luck when the horde of beetles seemed to give chase. The terrain sloped a bit uphill, and soon the way ahead opened into a new chamber. Daniels wasn't sure why, but Henderson hollered a warning. 

When they reached the opening, the footing quickly plummeted downwards, and Daniels saw two forms looming up ahead, against the wall. Instinctively, he grabbed his revolver from his side holster, only to realize it was just O'Connell and Jonathan. 

_"Run, you sons'a'bitches!"_ Henderson screamed at them like they were idiots for lingering. _"RUN!!" _

"Go," Daniels heard O'Connell tell Jonathan as he rounded the corner beside them, his heels skidding as he followed Henderson down the flat decline. 

What followed was a hectic chorus of screams and feeble pleas, but Daniels drowned out all that hubbub, never realizing that they had lost their last surviving digger or even how. The walls and turns were growing familiar, and all Daniels could think of was getting the hell out of the City. 

Suddenly a hand clamped down on his arm, the force of being stopped so swiftly spinning him about and bringing him face to face with Jonathan. Nerves strung, thinking he were some new threat, Daniels couldn't stop himself from poking the muzzle of his gun in the other's chest, eyes full of warning to back down. 

"Whoa, there!" the Englishman yelped, startled and prancing backwards from the aim. He released the American's arm with a gulp. "Bloody Yank." He hadn't meant to express that thought out loud. 

Daniels swallowed and lowered his weapon as Henderson came up behind him, huffing. The tall American asked, "What the hell is happening here? Where's O'Connell?" 

It struck Daniels suddenly that they were two short. He looked at Jonathan, who was on edge and feeling left behind. But still he seemed thankful for the company of the "Bloody Yanks". He eyed them warily, asking with a hopeful sound, "Listen, chaps, have you seen my sister?" 

Daniels shook his head. "No," he replied gruffly as Henderson said over-top him, "You left a woman down here alone with all this going on?" 

Jonathan replied defensively, "We didn't leave her. She's just...a little...lost." He seemed genuinely confused. 

"Have you seen Burns?" Daniels questioned himself. 

"You've lost a partner, too?" 

They stared at one and other for a moment, uncertain of the entire ordeal and thinking how incredible it all was. Then the encounter was broken by the sound of O'Connell's baritone voice from the corridor behind them. Jonathan hurriedly retraced their steps, hoping to find his sister safe. Henderson followed, and Daniels went along, gun at the ready. 

"Evie?!" Jonathan called out questioningly, which was instantly followed by a gasping, strangled scream. What happened next was a blur as the Americans slid to a stand-still inside the chamber, Jonathan falling back against them, thunderstruck, dropping his torch with a disgusted fear. Daniels froze at the sight he beheld. 

It couldn't possibly have been described logically. It was a corpse, plain and simple. Tall, standing perfectly erect with form and posture--_standing!_ Rotted flesh hung from dark, ancient bones, limp and grotesque. Muscles rippled stiffly, unused, and joints flexed grossly as the thing moved about on its own. O'Connell's mummy was alive!! And it turned to them, angry and curious, glaring at them with eyes that seemed fresh and new. It was _unreal!!_

Daniels' mind was whirling madly, all intelligent thought stopped dead in its tracks at the bizarre, horrifying sight. It was there right in front of him, staring at him with an ugly, decomposed face, but he couldn't believe it. There was no making sense of the situation. It was beyond imagining! The only thing that rattled around in his head was one semi-rational thought: 

_Oh. My. God._

Suddenly the thing turned back to a petrified Evelyn and agog O'Connell, braced against the wall and eyes caught on the corpse in a stunned manner. The mummy spread its arms and suddenly screamed, a whistling shriek that was incomparable; a blood-curdling roar that pierced through them with a deafening fierceness. It went beyond fear; it was almost painful. Daniels jumped, but otherwise was unable to move. 

Strangely enough, O'Connell screamed back defiantly at the hideous creature, as if unmoved. Quickly he pumped a round into his elephant gun and pulled the trigger. The shattering blast yanked Daniels back into reality. The mummy was shot off its feet. 

"Move!" O'Connell commanded, shoving Evelyn towards the exit. 

Henderson was all to happy to oblige, saying breathlessly to his comrade, "Yeah, right! Come on!"

Daniels gaped at him in a fuddled way as he swiftly followed Henderson out, asking him in sheer disbelief, "Did you see that? It was _walkin'! It was walkin'!!" _

Relief to be out of the ruins propelled them quickly through the tunnels and halls, finally at long last coming to the temple doorway. O'Connell, holding Evelyn's hand, rounded around the bend and grasped the heavy door as he came outside, waiting for Jonathan and the Americans to make it through.

"Come on, come on," he muttered to them. Henderson and Daniels threw their lit torches back inside, leaving them to burn freely, thinking they would keep whatever sinister forces lay inside Hamunaptra at bay; Daniels sheathed his gun, eager to be away. O'Connell pushed the door shut with a thudding knock, shutting the darkness inside. 

Then they all turned once more and ran, thoughts now on packing up their gear as fast as possible and leaving the City, treasue, mummy and all. Daniels held his wounded arm to him as he ran, wondering over and over if the entire thing had been real or some devilish figment of the imagination. He ran first away from the pillars, towards their camp, when suddenly something told him to raise his eyes. He did--and almost ran smack into a wall of rifles aimed on the fleeing lot! 

He slipped to a stop so abruptly he nearly suffered whiplash, backing off a step and immediately putting his hands in the air; there was no where for cover, and no chance to draw his own weapon. Henderson halted beside him, reacting much the same. They all gazed wide-eyed at the band of black Mumia Riders before them, shocked by their sudden appearance. They had Dr. Chamberlain on his knees in front of them, clutching his Book and jar, scared stiff. 

It took another minute for Daniels to realize that they were an _earthly_ threat, though nonetheless dangerous. The sight of them made him angry--angry for not being able to mete out his wish for vengence for shooting him the other night, angry that they stopped them from leaving, and angry that after surviving a hellish nightmare as Hamunaptra, they would die now at the hands of arrogant humans! He glared at the Bedouins, waiting to be struck down by the firing squad before him. 

Instead, one of the black-clad men stepped forward and drew back his shroud. It was the same tattooed man that had led the Mumia the night they attacked the Americans. His black eyes were serious, but the anger behind them was equaled by the air of disbelief about him. He gazed at them as if they were oddities. 

Steadily, as if masking the desire to berate them, he said in his accented English, "I told you to leave or die. You refused." He eyed them dangerously. "Now you may have killed us all, for you have unleashed a Creature we have feared for more than 3,000 years." 

"Relax, I got him," said O'Connell casually, almost proudly. 

"No mortal weapon can kill this Creature," the man said darkly, addressing the mercenary hotly as if he were a moron. "He's not of this world." 

As if to accentuate that statement, the Bedouins behind him parted and their leader stepped aside, watching as two men drug Burns over to the other Americans. Daniels blinked, astonished at the sight of his friend hanging rigidly in their grip. He was almost thankful to see Burns, until he realized something was wrong. 

The Mumia dropped him heavily into Henderson's arms, and Burns groaned in pain. Henderson lowered him to the ground gently, Daniels knelt down beside him, eyes wide with devastation at the sight of his friend's state.

Burns' pale, sickly face was raw and bloodied, black, empty sockets gazing blankly where eyes once were. And he couldn't talk. By the gurgling sounds he was making, and the blood and spittle that leaked from the corners of his mouth, they knew his tongue had been cut out. 

Daniels was completely horrified! What kind of twisted, cruel son of a bitch would torture a man like that? Being gunned down was easy enough for his mind to comprehend, but _this--_

"You_ bastards_," Daniels growled heavily, staring daggers at the Bedouin leader. 

Henderson raised his eyes off Burns, easing in an enraged breath through his nose to ask, "What did you do to him?" He looked ready to kill. 

"We saved him," the Bedouin returned, sounding largely insulted, "saved him before the Creature could finish his work. Now leave, all of you, quickly, before he finishes you all." 

Impatiently he said something in Arabic and waved his heavily armed men onward. With courage and conviction the man stated bluntly, as if he had no fear, "We must now go on the hunt, and try to find a way to kill him." 

Daniels watched them head off towards the temple door, preparing to walk into the heart of darkness, still glaring at their leader with disdain. He heard O'Connell insist that he killed the thing, but Burns reached a hand out in search of his arm, and his attention was diverted to his friend. 

He took his outstretched hand, saying softly to him, "It's okay, buddy. We're here." He looked up at Henderson with a sad, distant look. 

Burns tried in vain to say Henderson's name, but only managed a wheezing, unintelligible sound, his once friendly voice broken and hoarse. "Easy, easy," the tall American whispered to him. Then he met the other's eyes. "God, Daniels, he needs a doctor, right quick." 

Daniels nodded his head slightly, but something the Mumia leader said caught his ear, and he turned to him, watching as the man would not back down from the mercenary. 

"Know this," he was saying with a fierce sterness of a man who knew what dangers lay ahead, "this Creature is the Bringer of death. He will never eat, he will never sleep, and he will never stop."

The recollection of the nightmare he had had not long ago left Daniels with a breathless feeling, and he gazed down on Burns with fear, remembering something else._ He will kill all those who open this chest, and assimilate their organs and fluids...He will no longer be the Undead, but a plague upon this earth._ In that instant, Daniels realized that the curse had been fulfilled, the Undead had risen, and they were all in very grave danger. 

"Can you stand?" he asked Burns gently, who could only nod his head vaguely, wincing. Daniels looked at Henderson. "Let's get him up. We need to get the hell out of this place." 

"Right," Henderson mumbled, taking Burns' one arm. Together they got their friend on his feet, helping him over to their tent. 

Dr. Chamberlain followed, though not sure how he could help. O'Connell, Evelyn and Jonathan stayed close by at all times, O'Connell somewhat sulking as they packed up a few minor supplies to see them through the desert on their way back to Cairo. Swiftly, but tenderly Daniels helped Chamberlain bandage Burns' mauled eyes, all the while Burns tried to manage a new way to talk through his fresh impediment. It all upset Daniels too no end. He felt responsible, thinking with a throbbing guilt to himself, _I thought he was right behind me._

Henderson had gone off in search of their guide, taking two revolvers with him; he returned in no time to find five horses saddled and waiting, though the news he bared left one without a rider. 

"I can't find Beni anywhere," Henderson said with a shrug.

Daniels growled as he helped Burns into the saddle of his steady horse. "Figures. The little weasel musta' left without us." He cursed. "Damn him, anyhow." 

O'Connell, leading his camel over, asked, "What's the matter?" 

"We seemed to have lost our guide," Henderson responded, holstering his guns. 

"I can lead you fella's back," O'Connell offered, but Daniels briskly brushed him off. 

"We don't need your help, O'Connell," he said, disgruntled. "You're the ones who set this thing in motion. I think it best if we stay the hell away from you folks. Look what you did to Burns." 

"Hey," O'Connell interjected gruffly. "The mummy got him, alright? It's no ones fault. Besides, you uncovered that stupid book-thing, not us." 

Daniels looked over to where Chamberlain was sitting astride his mount, holding the reins of Burns' horse and clutching his black relic like some sort of security blanket. Evelyn suddenly spoke up, her brother by her side. 

"This is an extraordinary situation," she reflected. She seemed rather composed, but she was quietly wringing her hands like a child, worried. "There's no need to get worked up, Mr. Daniels. When we get back to Cairo we can rationally figure out the best course of action to approach this curse. It'll take brains, not brawn."

Daniels guffawed. "I didn't see your brains blasting that thing off its feet." 

Evelyn stood taller, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her head in a dignified manner at the insult, and O'Connell swiftly jumped to her defense, much to her surprise, by saying to the brash American, "You don't talk to her that way." 

Daniels got up in O'Connell's face, his eyes a mix of threatening and taunting. He remarked acidly, "And you don't talk to us at all. You're not running the show here, O'Connell. We don't have to follow you anywhere." 

"Dammit, Daniels," Henderson suddenly said, his voice stoical and demanding; yet he couldn't raise his eyes to meet his friends', "we don't have a choice."

Daniels turned to Henderson with an astonished expression, arching a brow. O'Connell said, "If you don't come with me now, you won't have to worry about any ancient mummy; you'll die in the desert, where there'll be no one to help you. Do you think these Bedouins give a damn about some smart-mouthed American?" Daniels held his head high at that remark, eyes slitting. O'Connell's demeanor actually softened somewhat, and he looked at Burns. "At least do it for your friend." 

With that, O'Connell turned and walked over to the camels, making sure they were all ready to set out. Evelyn stared at him for a time, something flickering in her eyes, a kind of admiration. Jonathan gave the Yanks a frank look, and Henderson clapped Daniels on the back in understanding, despite his friend's gaze of disapproval. 

Daniels turned on him, voice level and dark. "When we get back to Cairo," he said, "that's it. O'Connell can fight curses and mummies all he wants. But we're outta here." 

Henderson nodded. "Agreed," he said. He gently patted Burns leg before going to mount his own horse; he took the reins of Burns' chestnut from Chamberlain. 

Daniels let out an explosive sigh, full of anger and disgust, before shrugging on his jacket. With one arm in a sleeve, his injured arm against his chest under the coat, Daniels made certain he had his jar, the only treasure they found, safe in his pocket. He put on his hat and swung into the saddle. With dawn looming on the horizon and their campsite still assembled, the group set their camels and horses into a quick gallop out of the City walls. Behind them, the winds howled with fury, full of fire and torment. 

Outside Hamunaptra, on the crest of a sand dune overlooking the volcano, Daniels turned his horse's head about to look one last time at the ancient ruins. The City of the Dead, the legend that they had fought so hard to find, seemed to sink from sight as the sun rose behind it. A wave of light rippled over it, causing it to appear like a mirage, a vision reflected in a pool of water. Once more it was hidden from the outside world. Yet, if he stared hard enough, Daniels could almost make out the walls and fallen pillars. Hamunaptra was there for those who knew where to look. 

Henderson stopped his gelding with him, Burns by his side, and watched the City disappear. Daniels took no notice of his partners, biting his lip and grinding the leather of his reins into his palm. Their chance to make history, the hopes of wealth beyond his wildest dreams, all of it faded before his eyes. He had set out to make this journey one for the records; what would history say about them now? In one surreal moment, everything was gone.

And what did fate have in store for them next? 

Turning his horse back towards the others, Daniels exchanged a dismal look with Henderson, whose own eyes showed his understanding and remorse for what could have been. All the wealth of Egypt was left behind, destined perhaps never to be found, but they'd been so close. The adventure of a lifetime had ended all too quickly, and their promise of fortune and glory denied. Daniels kicked his little white mare into a gallop to catch up with O'Connell, Henderson, with Burns, following. It was over. 

Or was it? 

**end**


End file.
